


Beautiful

by jasondean



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, One-Sided Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 07:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4867610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasondean/pseuds/jasondean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heather Duke is a master of hiding her struggles, especially when she becomes involved with the other two Heathers. Popularity from Heather Chandler and Heather McNamara make her well-known and well-loved among everyone at Westerburg. Well, almost everyone. Just not those who matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

               It all began in the summer of eighth grade as she began to experiment with different clothes, treading the line between modesty and sexuality, making her face like a clown and playing with hairspray and heat. Heather Duke was always looking to fit in, even back then, spending ages glaring at her reflection, despising the girl that stared back at her.

               She held her breath and hoped that no one noticed the way she stuck out, the mismatched clothes, the oversaturated powders caking her face, the flimsy smile that tricked people into the impression of confidence. No one would see through the image of boldness she put up, and no one would push down the harsh walls she put up. At least, that was the plan.

               When Heather Chandler chose _her_ as her best friend and to launch her up in the social ranks of popularity when fall rolled around, how could she say no? The perfect blonde hair and the blue, puppy-dog gaze were difficult to disagree with. And when Heather McNamara transferred to Westerburg the next semester, their trio was complete. How could she be happier?

               “Don’t you think you should be watching your weight?”

               Heather Chandler’s voice was casual, but her gaze was like piercing chips of ice. The taunts about her size were flung around constantly, sure, but she was right. Heather knew it as she stared into the mirror of her room, picking every wrong thing about her out, her hateful gaze slowly tearing herself apart.

               Chandler only tried to help her. That’s what friends are for.

               So it didn’t sting when the criticism turned to other things, like how Heather curled and teased her hair, or how her favorite skirt was too short or how the silver necklace she received for her sixteenth birthday went hideously with everything she owned. Her envious gaze was always focused on Heather Chandler, the demon that came out at school and at parties but purred and obeyed when they were alone.

               She stood in front of her mirror, this time Chandler by her side. She couldn’t help her gaze from drifting to the girl next to her, her glare shooting daggers at everything she had that Heather did not. Bouncy blonde hair pulled back with the signature red ribbon, perfectly manicured nails, and bright unstained teeth.

               “I think it’s too much,” Heather Chandler tutted, for once her pokes towards herself rather than at her friend. She spun around, watching her reflection in the mirror, and flattened out the blouse borrowed from Heather Duke’s closet. “But you,” the queen said, facing Heather.

               She braced herself, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear and meeting the girl’s gaze, an unspoken challenge on her face. To be Chandler’s, she had to bend to her will. She had to see the worst of her before the best was revealed.

               “You’re beautiful,” Chandler said, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Heather looked down at her attire, taken aback. An emerald cardigan draped over a white blouse and a checkered skirt, matching green socks adorning her feet. Was she beautiful? She never wore green.

               “Green’s your color.”

               She savored the words, thinking back on them every time Chandler made a jab at her to impress McNamara or one of the many boy toys that hang around her. For one night, she was beautiful in her eyes. For one night, she didn’t want to be anyone else.

               The feeling came back from time to time, during sleepovers with just the two of them or when McNamara was snoring quietly as she dreamed. Her lips were so soft but so firm, even if she tasted like booze and forgot everything in the morning. Heather didn’t forget, though. Sober or not, her touch, her slurred whispers, her taste, was always in the back of her mind.

               In her senior year, Veronica was pulled into the clique. She had a hidden beauty that caught Chandler’s eye, and her talent for forging just about any student and any teacher’s handwriting sealed the deal. Despite her best hopes, Chandler’s teasing was not pushed onto Veronica, or at least to the severity Heather dealt with. In fact, Veronica seemed to be… Her favorite.

               Heather never hated anyone more than she hated Veronica Sawyer. She was nothing near the caliber the Heathers required. She was goofy, she always seemed to say the wrong thing, she always wore the dorkiest clothes, and her boyfriend was the creepy new kid who definitely had some screws loose. But Heather Chandler and Heather McNamara adored her. There was _nothing_ good about Veronica, nothing valuable about her… Except maybe her croquet set.

               Her bitter mask came off once more during a sleepover at Veronica’s, the Sawyer parents leaving the girls to their own devices. Chandler urged Veronica to sneak a bottle of wine out from the kitchen, and they drank and giggled all night.

               McNamara was always the first asleep, even without the additional urging of alcohol. Veronica claimed to have taken a piss and hadn’t made an appearance in around thirty minutes. Chandler and Heather fell back into their drunken rhythm, even though it was now beginning to become familiar, their movements sloppy and their sighs too loud.

               “I changed my mind,” Chandler said suddenly, pulling away and putting a centimeter distance between the two girls. “You’re not.”

               “What?”

               “You’re not beautiful.”

               Heather jolted up, her buzz immediately killed. She was met with Chandler’s snoring, wondering what the hell just happened. After a few minutes of silent tears, she regained herself and put the mask back on. Chandler wouldn’t remember the exchange. Heather could start anew the next sleepover.

               She got up, making her way to the kitchen when she turned to see Veronica’s watchful gaze. She felt ice crawl up her spine. The girl had been listening the whole time, sitting against the couch. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “It wasn’t…”

               “Why?”

               “I…”

               “I know how she treats you. You don’t have to settle.”

               Heather stared down at the brunette, her insides twisting. She slumped against the couch, sitting next to Veronica, giving in. She couldn’t keep up the façade while the girl said such nice things, considering the venom Heather spat at her. Tears trailed down her round cheeks.

               “You’re one to talk,” Heather muttered, anger rising in her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Veronica’s head snapping towards her, recognized the hurt slapped on her face almost immediately.

               “He needs help, Heather,” Veronica finally replied, resting her hand on the other girl’s thigh. _So do you,_ she seemed to say in the motion.

               That was Veronica’s way. She always had to fix people, no matter how they hurt her. In Heather’s eyes, it was weak. No one in this world was deserving enough for the care that Veronica showed her, or really, any of the Heathers. Despite not getting the same harsh treatment as Heather Duke, Veronica did get lots of insults flung at her from Heather Chandler, and in turn, Heather McNamara.  It was stupid of her. She had real friends, like Martha and JD. Popularity wasn’t as good as that.

               “I love her, Veronica,” Heather whispered, “I love her so goddamn much.”

               “I know.” Her voice was soothing like honey, and she found herself getting lost in the words. She raised her arm, draping it around Heather and pulling the girl to her. Her hand rested on her shoulder, squeezing it. _I’m here,_ she seemed to say.

               “Why? Why are you doing this? I don’t get it. I’m fucking horrible to you. We all are,” Heather said, her head resting on Veronica.

               “That doesn’t mean you’re not human.”

               Heather pulled away for a second, looking at her. Her expression was serious, meaning every word she said.  Veronica leaned forward, planting a kiss on the other girl’s forehead. She leaned back into her, squeezing her eyes shut and letting her tears loose.

               And Heather felt herself falling again.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 10/9/15: i'm thinking of re-writing this fic since i'm not very happy with it, so if it's deleted, that's why. thanks!


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